The Otherworld
by Emerald-Leaves
Summary: Arthur is an aspiring young wizard who wants to prove his skill. General Zima is a bitter old wizard who wants more. The two summon the Spirits of Darkness and Light, unknowingly releasing chaos in their wake when the two spirits come in contact. RusAme Warnings: Mystical AU, genderbending, blood, strong language, explicit sexual scenes. Collab. with Artemis Daarken
1. Prologue

**Prologue: The Otherworld**

Light. Darkness. Good. Evil. Love. Hate. Indefinable in the waking world, yet distinct in the spirit. Swirling chaos. Confusion. Division laced with passion. Hatred injected where love should be. Calamity. Mystification. Loneliness. Longing. Hope.

The wretched slaves of will, the spirits, wandered aimlessly through the swirls of the abyss. They watched the worlds from their cage, hoping praying for their chance to escape the world that they inhabited. They were creatures of neither Heaven nor Hell nor the blue Earth. None knew the old name of the purgatory in which they dwelled, yet mortals privy to their existence simply called it the "Otherworld". It was wholly unlike everything else, a place in which contained the spirits, powerful creatures designated to one name, one function while in the Otherworld.

Their existence in the Otherworld was harsh, fighting with their opposites. The spirits of fire and water despised one another while in the Otherworld, yet when summoned to Earth, they could not stand to be apart. Because on the Earth, where nothing was wholly one thing or the other, the elements of opposite forces were drawn together, the passion barely contained in the Otherworld finally released and set free. Lovers while on Earth, indifferent enemies in the Otherworld. Lovers destined to hated one another forever.

Unless they were strong enough to change their fates…

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone and welcome to my first completely and totally, shamelessly AU fic! Of course this isn't my original idea, the idea of this story comes from **Artemis Daarken**. She got a hold of me and asked if I'd write this story and I found her plot very interesting, and since I've always wanted to try my hand at such a completely different story like this, outside of Hetalia World or set more outside of history, I agreed. (Though there still will be history in this story, the same as all my others~)

So please do tell us what you think so far! This is at least my first collaboration, so be kind! Thanks everyone! Hope to hear from you all soon! :)


	2. Chapter 1: Masters

**Chapter One: Masters**

Arthur Kirkland walked out of his class, muttering under his breath, his prominent brows drawn together angrily as he stormed down the hall. The thick tome in under his arm was heavy, much heavier, much more advanced than a student such as Arthur should be reading, but that did not stop the ambitious young wizard from wanting to learn all that he could, to rise above his peers and become the greatest of them all. He could do it, he knew he could. And he would.

"I'll show them," he hissed darkly.

How dare his professors tell him he wasn't ready for the advanced spells! How dare they tell him that summoning was above even the most skilled wizards and witches. The Kirkland family was one of the most prestigious magical families in the world! To insinuate that he, Arthur Kirkland, could not handle a simple summoning spell, it was not just insulting, it was downright _wrong. _Summoning spirits was in his blood. His grandfather had been a particularly powerful wizard and had actually summoned the spirit of Earth, one of the oldest, most powerful spirits in the Otherworld!

As he made it back to his room, the furious student slammed the door to his dorm room shut. Without ceremony, he shrugged off his bag and flung himself onto his bed, the ancient book still wrapped securely in his arms. It wasn't like he did this every day, this sulking—it was more like once a week if he could be brutally honest with himself—but he felt justified this time, more than ever. Today had been a bad day. Today would continue to get worse too. Today was the last day of classes. Today he would have to go home. To his brothers…

The blonde closed his eyes tightly, trying not to think of his siblings at the moment, remembering his humiliation after the exam had been bad enough. The way his professor had just stared at him after he had asked the specifics of summoning like he was an idiot. The way Professor Churchill used "the voice" with him, talking down to him like he was four-years-old child. The way several of the crueler students had overheard his questions and Churchill's condescension. Those bastards would be sure to remember this come next semester, and even worse, they would be sure to get a hold of his eldest brother, Seumas, who would more than likely taunt Arthur to death while the twins, Liam and Neil, would join in. Gareth would probably just sit by and do nothing at all. A shudder ran down the youngest of the Kirkland boy's spin at just the thought of what his brothers would do to him _without_ them finding out. _With _them finding out would be much, much worse.

"Bullocks," he curses, covering his brilliant green eyes with his arm, trying to block out the torture and the humiliation that seeped into his marrow. Why was everything in his life so complicated? It shouldn't be this bad!

Sighing, he sat up, looking around the small room that had been his home for the last several months. He would miss this place, even if he had to share it every year with a different student. This year hadn't been quite so bad, though. He'd roomed with a student from Norway, a pretty quiet boy whose only real character flaw was that he ate too much herring, which often times stunk up the room. But really, Lukas wasn't so very bad. He kept to himself, didn't yell and scream, and never brought anyone else into the room. Arthur was actually thinking of requesting Lukas again as a roommate next semester.

But the Norwegian was gone now, finished his exams a day early, and left to go back home in the wee hours of the morning today. The room looked much different without the Scandinavian's belongings helping to clutter the room, and Arthur's own belongings all in boxes and bags. This year had been one of the happiest in the Brit's life, and he was sorry it had to all just stop because classes were no longer in session for the summer. That meant he would have to go home, up north. To Scotland. He shuddered.

The Kirkland family had moved all over the United Kingdom as part of his father's job. While it was true that they'd never spent more time in one section of the island than the other, that didn't mean that the Kirkland boys didn't reflect the land of their births. Seumas, the eldest, was born in Scotland almost thirty years ago now. For whatever reason, he even looked like a Scotsman, a big bury redhead who would much rather punch a man than use magic. He was the worst of the boys, the meanest spirited, and Arthur liked him least of all. Next came Gareth, who was born in Wales. Of all the brothers, Arthur liked him best, even if the second Kirkland son was cold and indifferent, and liked sheep too much to be healthy. At least the brunette left Arthur alone. Then came the twins, Liam and Neil. They had been born in Ireland and were much too much like Seumas, both red heads and wild. They caused more trouble for the Kirkland family than anyone else, except a drunken Seumas. And of course, last born, in the only civilized place on the whole island, was Arthur, born in London, England nineteen years ago now. Of all the Kirkland boys, Arthur was the most gifted in magic, but he had somehow also become more of a target for others. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't fear as Seumas was, respected like Gareth, or praised like Liam and Neil. No, Arthur was much different than his brothers, but that just made him special…

Sighing once more, the blonde knew he should finish gathering his belongings. His mother would be expecting him home soon now. Since father had died eight years ago, his mother had moved them all back up to Scotland, where Seumas had moved to several years earlier, and now all the Kirklands were back together again. Seumas had been pretty generous at first, allowing his distressed mother and brothers come live with him, but soon enough, the supposedly _mature _Scotsman had lapsed back into old habits, and it was like nothing had ever changed. He still terrorized his siblings, Gareth still wandered off by himself, the twins still got into trouble with the locals, insisting that there were leprechauns about, and Arthur still kept to himself, reading, while their mother cooked and cleaned and scolded her sons fiercely.

Taking out his magic wand, Arthur swirled it around, muttering a charm, and watched with satisfaction as his bags all shrunk down into tiny replicas of their former selves. He began collecting them and put them in his pockets, before finishing packing up the rest and repeating the spell. He looked about the now clean, empty room and frowned. He really didn't want to go home. Not yet.

His eyes fell upon the old tome that was sitting mockingly on his bed. He scowled at it, before going to pick it up. He was going to have to return it to the library before he left. Students were forbidden to keep library books over the summer…but Seumas had. In fact, so had the twins. They had all gotten away with doing all sorts of terrible things while they had attended university and never got in trouble at all, so why couldn't Arthur? Just this once?

The book was old and falling apart slightly from disuse. It was so advanced that none of the students ever used it, and most of the professors could not even perform the magic within, and so left it be. No one would go looking for this particular book. After all, it was mostly about summoning, and summoning was considered taboo. Wizards and witches had long ago given up common practice of summoning the spirits because no matter what happened, it always ended badly. The spirits were better left where they were: in the Otherworld. His own grandfather, when summoning the Earth spirit, had almost unleashed a terrible doom upon the world, as in Africa the Wind spirit had been summoned as well. When the two spirits had met, it had been nearly disastrous, or so Arthur was told. Somehow the two spirits had come into contact with one another while in the World, and they had simply attacked one another, or so the story went. Arthur wasn't sure of the particulars, like what exactly both spirits had been summoned to the World for, but most "experts" believed that the spirits were too dangerous to be left out in the World, especially since it seemed that their natural opposite was unleashed at the same time.

There were so many theories about the spirits, so many different beliefs as to what they did in the World, or what they could do, but one thing was certain; when a wizard or witched summoned a spirit, they were undeniably powerful. Spirits were hard to handle, but if any mortal could, it proved not only strength, but cunning, wit. Grandfather had been the most powerful wizard produced in England for many years, had been able to control the spirit he had summoned until fate had drawn the Wind spirit and the Earth spirit together. It wasn't the wizards' faults, the ones who summoned the spirits, but there was a chance that the two creatures would cross paths.

Biting his lip, Arthur shrunk the tome and quickly stashed it in the breast pocket of his shirt. No one would know that this book was gone, and he wanted to learn more about how to control the spirits, to learn what the spirits were like. He wasn't going to try anything stupid, no, his family had enough shame with his grandfather, and Arthur knew he couldn't add to it. No, his interest was purely academic. He wanted to do his final thesis about the spirits, after all, so he needed to start now and start collecting as much information about them as he could.

Smiling to himself, happy with the little half truth he'd told himself, the blonde walked over the window, opened it to air out the last remaining hints of herring, before making his way to the front of the university, where he would get transportation home.

**oOoOoOo**

The first day being back at home was usually the best day of the summer. His mother was always so happy to see him, and always made his favorite meal after she'd finished squeezing the life out of him. His brother, too, were nice enough, knowing that their mother would not _stand _to see her baby tormented…at least not right after he had gotten home anyway, and so the first full day he was back was nice enough, and he was able to sleep in a bit and was even left alone all afternoon when he'd gone on his walk.

While out, he'd seen a unicorn and even a fairy or two. Of all his family members, Arthur was the only one that could see all of the magical creatures. It was common that wizards or witches could only see a specific species of magical creatures, but Arthur could see them all. Seumas could see the Loch Ness Monster, Gareth wraiths, the twins leprechauns, and his mother unicorns. But not Arthur, he saw all those and more. It made him feel special, knowing that he could see and do what his brothers could not, though in their jealousy, they often accused him of making up some of the creatures he saw, such as the flying mint bunny, but that one was real! Just because he hadn't met anyone else that could see that particular creature yet didn't mean that he was lying about it! …And he wasn't crazy!

But when he wandered back into the house that night for dinner, he knew that his peace was about to bust when Seumas turned his wicked green eyes upon his youngest brother. It made the blonde shift uncomfortably. "Oi," the large man called, mouth full of shepherd's pie. "Heard ye go' int' a bit of a squabble wi' Churchill."

The youngest boy blanched. "N-no," Arthur denied, shaking his head, knowing all eyes were on him. "It wasn't like that. I-I just stayed behind to ask a question, is all. Professor Churchill merely…_explained_ some of the finer points to me."

"No' wha' I heard," Seumas smirked.

The twins, now, were staring at their younger brother with matching predatorial looks. Trying to calm his racing heart, Arthur scowled darkly at his brothers. "You heard _wrong_, then."

"What's all this about, then?" Liam asked, leaning towards the blonde.

"Havin' a wee bit a'trouble, are we?" Neil pouted in mock-sympathy.

"No. I'm not," Arthur growled, balling his hands up into fists. Why, oh why, was he cursed to have four older brothers who hated him so much? Why couldn't he be back in his nice, safe dorm room that smelled like fish with his nearly completely silent roommate who only got excited about albino moose?

"Boys," their mother warned.

"Naw, I jus' wanna be sure tha' my wee baby brother is looked after," Seumas smiled that shit-eaters smile their mother always fell for. "Jus' wanna know wha' Artie here's been up to."

"Leave 'im 'lone," Gareth scowled, rolling his eyes. "If he's stupid enough t' mess with Churchill, that's _'is_ business."

"I'm _not _stupid, and I didn't have a bad run in with Professor Churchill!" Arthur shot up, shouting angrily.

"Arthur!" their mother snapped. "Sit down before I _tie _you down. Really, at the table? I thought you had better manners than that."

The blonde blushed at his mother's rebuke while the twins burst out laughing. "Heard ye were talkin' about _spirits_," Seumas pressed on, nastily twisting the knife in the wound. "About summonin'."

"What?!" their mother screeched, and all the boys winced. "Summoning? Arthur Cromwell Kirkland! You were trying to _summon_ a spirit?!"

While the other boys snickered at the use of his middle name, Arthur tried his best to think of a way to calm his mother. "M-mummsy, it's not w-what you think!"

"Arthur, you know you're not supposed to summon spirits!" the fiery woman cried on. "You _know _what happened to your grandfather! You _know _what would happen if another spirit was released into the world! And because of our family too!"

"I wasn't trying to summon one, mamma!" Arthur held up his hands quickly. "I was just asking Professor Churchill _about _summoning. You see, I was thinking of doing my senior thesis on—"

"Arthur," the older woman sighed tiredly, "that's not the point. The point is that you shouldn't be showing interested in summoning. Our family is outcast enough after what your grandfather did, and to know that another person in our family is looking into it, whether just for curiosities sake or wanting to actually summon looks _bad_. We've been through enough because of that incident in your father's family's past. I don't want to see you getting hurt or any of your brothers because you couldn't contain your curiosity."

The blonde paled a bit, knowing that his mother was right, of course, that he would feel terrible if anything else happened in his family. But the youthfulness inside of him didn't want to give up so quickly. He didn't want to have to be subjected to his mother's will all his life and so his mind rebelled. He was an adult! He could take care of himself. He knew what he was doing. He could handle it, he could handle _everything_.

With his resolve setting, but know that his mother was staring at him expectantly, he nodded slowly. "Very well, mother," he mumbled, staring down at his plate.

"You won't go looking for any more information about summoning? Promise me, Arthur," she demanded.

"I won't," he promised faithfully. After all, he didn't need to go looking for anymore. He had all the information he needed in that one book he'd taken from school.

Dinner never really went back to a civil affair after that. The boys began picking on one another more brutally while their mother tried to mediate between them all. Eventually Seumas went out to go to the pub that night with some mates. The twins went out as well, saying something about meeting up with a man with a pot of gold. Gareth decided to go walking out in the dark, probably to check on the sheep. Soon, it was only Arthur and his mother, and after the dishes were washed and put away, she went to bed.

The youngest Kirkland waited a bit before he went to his room and pulled out the book he'd taken from the school. He was determined to prove everyone wrong, to prove that his grandfather hadn't been wrong to call a spirit. Spirits could be handled, you just had to give them enough rules initially so that they couldn't get away from you and cause chaos.

Drawing the appropriate circle and star pattern on the floor, Arthur nervously looked over his shoulder. If one of his family members came in right now, they'd freak out, and he'd probably be banished outside with the sheep, which would make Gareth even more upset. Scowling, the blonde shook his head. No, he didn't care. He wanted to summon a spirit. He could ask it questions for his thesis before sending it back. He could do this. He was the most powerful wizard in his family now. One little spirit wouldn't hurt, right? It didn't even matter if it was a tree spirit or frog spirit! Just one, little one…

He swiftly read through all the instruction and the incantation itself. It didn't seem too terribly difficult, though the ancient language of the druids was complicated, but he had long ago learned it. The hardest part would be summoning up enough magic from himself to open the Otherworld in order to allow a spirit to come through. That's were wizards and witches failed. Most weren't powerful enough to do it, but Arthur was confident in his abilities. He could do this. He'd show his professors, his peers, his family! Nothing would go wrong!

He began chanting the old language softly, watching the entrance to the portal he'd drawn begin to glow violet. He kept chanting, chanting, chanting, each time sending more of his magic to the portal. He wasn't exactly sure if he was doing it right, wasn't sure if he needed to be louder or more crisp in his pronunciation, but he carried on, willing this to work with all of his being.

Unbeknownst to mortals, summoning a spirit was much more complex than simply sending enough magic to the portal for them to pass through, or saying the right words. In order for a spirit to cross into the human world, their opposite had to be summoned as well, at the exact moment that the other was called. Wizards and witches knew that there was some coloration between the spirits and their opposites in the World at the same time, but they had yet to figure out how. The World was a pretty big place, after all, and not everyone recorded their summoning attempts exactly or at all. Summoning not only took powerful wizards, but an astrologically lucky break. Some of the most powerful wizards and witches in the world were considered unable to summon spirits, but that was not because of a lack of the talent, it was merely the lack of luck.

But as luck would have it, at that exact moment, deep in the northern reaches of Siberia, another wizard, the most powerful in Russia, was trying at that exact moment to call upon the spirit world. A man by the name of Zakhar Tsezar Zima, a former Soviet general who was colder than the land in which he lived. He was cruel and vicious, often called the _Volk_ by his subordinates. There was no mercy with General Zima, none that could be found, and many believed he tried to live up to his name's sake. Later on in life, Zima was charged with overseeing many of the GULags in Siberia, the special camps being his favorite to work with. The old wizard hid his powers remarkably well from the regular humans, which was responsible for most of his success.

Yes, for _Armeyskiy Komissar 1 Ranga_ Zima, life was good. He had everything he wanted, had risen to the status of Supreme Commander, and with his magic, he was able to hold complete control over any situation…until the fall of the Soviet Union happened. It was a slow process, of course, but it had happened too quickly for Zima to stop. All that he had worked hard for, all of his suffering, all of his power, was soon gone. There was no need for _Komissar _Zima, and even with his magic, the older general could not keep hold of all that he'd once had.

In the end, Zima became a bitter old man, living in a capitalist society that he hated more than the German scum and traitors he'd tortured in the camps up until he'd been forced to release the last of them in the '70s. No longer could he be in control of prisons. No matter how hard he tried to hold on to the past, it had slipped through his fingers, and now he was just a wretched old wizard who worked as a security cop at a local convenient story. He was getting on in age, was nearing one hundred, but the magic in his blood kept him looking like a man of merely fifty.

The Soviet Union had been his life. He had been alive before that, old enough to remember the fall of the Tsar and the first Great War, but he had not truly _lived _until Stalin had risen to power. That was when Zima had thrived, had been his happiest, but that was all gone now. He had to hide his identity to the world now, for such a young looking one hundred-year-old would hardly escape notice. He was trapped as a lowly guard who occasionally got to beat up stupid teenage scum that thought they could shoplift and get away with it.

But his days of working such a despicably low class job was about to come to an end. Because _Kommissar _Zima was about to do something that no wizard or witch had done before him. He was going to call upon the Spirit of Darkness, perhaps the most powerful spirit within the Otherworld. Its only equal was the Spirit of Light, but the Spirit of Light had never been summoned either, and the likely hood of it coming into the Realm of Mortals was very slim. Or at least that is what Zima believed. He knew of the connection between the opposites, the theories, but was unconcerned.

Looking about his room, he analyzed his drawing of the pentagram critically. It was perfect, and so were all of the candles lit about the room. He dared not used electricity, as it would be too bright, and he did not want to harm the Spirit of Darkness or weaken it in any manner. He needed the creature to be strong, to be tough, so that when it carried out his tasks, it would succeed in everything.

Looking out the window, Zima nodded in approval. It was nearly three in the morning, the outside was pitch black. That would be excellent for the spirit; it would enter into the world strong. As he went and shut the blinds to the window, he grabbed a scarf and cursed it. In order for a spirit to remain loyal to its summoner, it had to be bound, least the sneaky creature try and trick you. There were old stories, ancient stories, of creatures betraying their masters and sending them into the Otherworld, never to be released. Zima had much too much to live for, and thus made sure to take every precaution, especially with such a powerful spirit as the one he was summoning.

Taking several deep breaths, the old wizard began chanting in the ancient tongue of the original peoples of Russia. The Rus invaders were of a more Germanic stock, and being in the heart of Siberia, to make sure the spell was more powerful by tapping into the magic of the land itself, Zima used the original language. He had practiced before, practiced so that the words came smoothly off his tongue, and flowed gracefully from his lips.

The floor began to glow an eerie blue radiance and mist from seemingly nowhere began to emerge from the floor. Little did he know that in Scotland, at that very moment, a purple twin glow was had. Zima's heart began speeding up in excitement as well as dread once he realized it was working. He began sweating as he poured out all of his energy, all of his will into making this work. The floor seemed to fall away completely, leaving a gaping chasm from which more blue light was emitted, strangely muted and dull.

Zima could feel the magic leaving his body, could physically see it as it was swallowed up in the hole in the floor. It was a waste, all of his energy being ripped from his body, feeding the monster on the other side. Suddenly a swirling vortex of blue and black leapt into the air, forming a spiraling column as it tore off the roof of the small house. The old general was terrified, but he found he couldn't stop, couldn't stop until he had finished the summoning or was killed from giving too much energy.

Had he been calling any other spirit, Zima would have succeeded by now, but since he was calling the Spirit of Darkness, much more was required from him. To call such an old, powerful spirit wasn't easy, and had he been younger, more inexperienced, he would be dead by now, the Spirit of Darkness devouring his soul and energy. But Zima was a hard man and did not give up so easily.

In one final attempt, he shouted out the ancient chant, demanding the spirit show itself and to come into the Realm of Mortals. Suddenly, a horrible screeching came from deep within the chasm, as though Hell had sent out its demons. A screeching, an unholy cry of pain and fury sounded as the spirit was being ripped from its home in the Otherworld and brought into the Land of Men. For the first time in his life, General Zima's heart froze with terror, and he could not move as he watched the column darken into black fog, and all light seemed to cease instantly, the candles having gone out.

Shaking, Zima watched as the blackness of the room was relieved ever so slightly by a faint purple glow emitted from a very large figure that now sat hunched over the pentagram on the floor. He could see the creature's heaving breath thanks to the unnatural violet glow that seemed to incase its body. It was not a strong glow, not enough to brighten the room, but just enough to show the outline of the spirit that had come into the world. From what the old Russian could see, the spirit he had summoned was enormous.

Fear was a sign of weakness, and Zima had always made it a point to avoid weaknesses as much as he could. So, despite his exhaustion, he grabbed the scarf that he had cursed and walked over to the spirit carefully. His whole body was sent into tremors the moment he drew near the unworldly being, but he fought viciously with himself to stop shaking and do what needed to be done.

"S-Spirit of Darkness," he called, cursing his stutter. "Arise and face your master!"

The creature did not respond, and for a wild moment, Zima became afraid that the being didn't understand human language, when all of a sudden, the hulking creature began to rise. Its height was more impressive than Zima ever imagined it would be, and even though he was a tall man himself, he could not compete with the being that now stood over six feet tall, perhaps closer to seven.

"Master?" the creature's voice was deceivingly light, it's tone almost humorous. "I have never had a master before," it looked down with glowing purple eyes, so dark they were almost black.

Swallowing, the general pushed past his fear and quickly wrapped the scarf around the spirit's neck, the only clothing the creature now had on. The scarf glowed orange as it tightened momentarily around the creature's neck, causing it to hiss, before the fabric settled down, looking merely like an ordinary scarf again. The Spirit of Darkness looked at the offending object around its neck, before tugging at it. It glowed as it tried to take the scarf off, burning it. It hissed again.

"That is to bind you to me, as my slave," Zima said coldly, elated that the curse was doing its job. "Only I may remove it. Should anything else, there will be consequences."

The spirit cocked its head curiously, almost childlike, as it stared down at the old Russian. "And why have you summoned me here?"

Zima smiled coldly. "To do my bidding, of course."

The Spirit of Darkness frowned, but said nothing else and waited patiently as its new master began describing its duties.

**oOoOoOo**

On the other side of Europe, in Scotland, Arthur Kirkland watched in horrified amazement as the purple light that had suddenly come flashing out from the floor, suddenly became a whirlpool in the middle of his room. The purple light became brighter and brighter until the whole room was almost white. The frightened young wizard collapsed onto the floor, cowering, covering his ears as an otherworldly shriek was emitted from the center of the chasm. He was so tired from all the magic he had expended and so petrified, he was afraid he would soon faint.

But just when it seemed that his room was going to be sucked through the vortex in the floor, and the light would surely blind him, it slowly started to fade until Arthur could just made out a single figure. He gawked at the feminine curses and the shock of golden hair. There before him, stood a young woman, bathed in blue light, completely naked as she looked about the room.

Arthur's eyes bulged at the sight of her, and when those bright, shining blue eyes turned and looked into his own green, the young wizard-in-training passed out, unable to believe that he had actually been able to summon a spirit.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Aaaaaaaaa~aaaand, enter the spirits! If you're curious, Arthur is a powerful wizard, but he was only able to summon Light because Zima had been specifically calling Darkness and since Zima was specific in which spirit he wanted and Arthur wasn't, didn't really care what he got, ta-da! Light came out because Darkness was being ripped from the Otherworld…It should get clearer as it goes on…

**Random Fact: **The mention of the "albino moose" is in reference to the albino moose that once lived in Norway. The Norwegians loved is so much, and decided it was a protected animal. Unfortunately for them, a Danish hunter came and shot it, claiming he didn't know it was protected…Poor Albin. :'(

**Russian: **Zima= Winter~ _Volk_ (волк) wolf.

_Armeyskiy komissar 1 ranga_ (Армейский комиссар 1 ранга) Army Commissar 1st rank. (**There really _were _no equivalents to Generals in the Soviet army, but there were "Supreme Commanders" and one branch of that, under Political staff- which Winter would be under since I made him in charge of GULags- was an Army Commissar. 1st rank being, of course, the highest.)

'**Nother Note: **Well, here's the first chapter. Any questions, comments, concerns, complaints, let me know, and I'll share them with Artemis Daarken. Please leave us a review, if you'd be so kind. Thanks everyone! :)


	3. Chapter 2: Difficult

**Chapter Two: Difficult **

It was all just a haze, a swirling, clouded mess showcasing light filtering through the darkness. But from the swirling chaos came two figures, one male, one female; one dark, one light. They were dancing, or so it seemed. Their movements were sharp, furious, yet with such elegance that it hardly seemed possible. Around and around the two figures twirled, the power hidden within the bodies was obvious. And frightening. Yet one was not more powerful than the other. One did not move faster or sharper than the other. It was an intricate balance of power, somehow deadly, in a way that no one could quite understand. Passionate.

The two figures went faster and faster in the dream as Arthur fought to come into consciousness. Just before his eyes opened, his brain making sense of what he was seeing, the last image he had was that of the male figure, the darker one, being pulled away, forcibly ripped from his methodical dance, a strange, unnatural silence coming between the two dancers. The female stood by helplessly, trying to dance alone, to maintain balance, but it was impossible. The blue light around her was growing bright and brighter, nothing there to dim its energy, nothing to keep her from going too fast, nothing to keep her balanced!

Flashing lights of bright blue and smoldering purple invaded the young wizard's vision just as his eyes snapped open unpleasantly as his head throbbed. To his surprise, he opened them to find that the intense blue light was there before him, staring and burning into his very soul. Yet the fire was contained within large eyes in the kindly face of a young woman.

Sitting up instantly, the young Englishman nearly bumped his head against the woman's in his attempt to wake up. "B-bloody hell!" he gasped.

The young woman giggled as she moved her head back, saving it from being hit, her pretty face scrunching up slightly in her amusement. Blonde hair adorned her head, not so very long, just to her mid-neck, and around her more rounded, sweet face. She had dimples while she laughed, and her smile was large, showing off bright white teeth. Her cheeks were full and pink from her giggles, and her body was fit and trim and…

"Good God, put on some clothes!" Arthur averted his eyes instantly, holding up his hands, face scarlet as he tried not to peek over at the young woman who seemed completely comfortable with being stark naked in his…room? Why was he lying on the floor in his room?

The girl cocked her head to the side, obviously confused, but the Brit refused to look her direction. "Is that what you command?" she asked, her voice strong, powerful.

"Y-yes, I want you t-to put on _something_!" he squeaked. Should he help her find something? He wasn't even sure his legs would work at the moment. He was so confused. What happened? Why was he on the floor? Who was this girl? Why was she naked? Her eyes seemed so…

Then it struck him. "You're the spirit I summoned!" he gasped, turning to look at her, as she still stood still, not seeming to understand how amazing her presence in the human world really was.

"Yes," she nodded.

Fumbling, trying to get his legs under him, Arthur managed to stand, before he grabbed a blanket off his bed and instantly threw it over the girl. _Spirit _he corrected instantly. The blonde pulled it off her head, looking at the blanket in wonder as well as a bit of annoyance as she held it out. "What is this?" she asked.

"Wrap it around yourself," Arthur said, averting his eyes to stare down at his feet.

"Why?" asked the spirit.

"Because I _told _you to!" he blurted out, voice rising in his panic. Everything would be _so _much simpler if the girl were clothed!

Almost instantly, the command was obeyed and the spirit wrapped the old, dark green blanket around her slender form. When he was sure that she was at least decent enough to look at, Arthur turned up his eyes and was met with a smile from the spirit, who seemed completely serene, if not a bit excited. He couldn't believe it. He had really called a spirit! And it was here in his bedroom in all its glory.

"Wicked," he sighed in awe.

The girl turned to look over at Arthur, puzzled. "What is?" she asked, frowning.

Realizing his mistake, Arthur shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered. "Wh-who are you?" he asked, unable to keep the excitement off his face. He had really done it! He had called a spirit!

The girl's smile grew impossibly large, and there was an almost arrogance in her features as she bowed her head low to Arthur, who ate up the act like a starving dog. "I am the Spirit of Light," she introduced. "You are the one who summoned me."

"Th-the S-Spirit of Light?" the other blonde's voice hitched as he gawked at the girl.

He had been expecting a tree spirit or even some sort of animal spirit, but the Spirit of Light?! Not much was really known about the spirits except that there were many of them and they apparently had a hierarchy similar to humans. There were lesser spirits, assigned to specific creatures or objects, and those who encompassed many areas. But the two most mythical among all of the spirits in The Otherworld, were the Spirits of Light and Darkness. From snippets collected from other spirits in the past, the Spirits of Light and Darkness were among the most powerful, if not the most powerful, because their influence was in everything. There was darkness in the depths of the water, there was light in creating heat. Darkness and Light were vague, and yet completely definable. They were the spirits more feared in ancient times because no one knew what they would look like and how they would react while on Earth.

But now, it seemed, Arthur had broken that tentative barrier between The Otherworld and the Human Realm. He began shaking slightly, as the spirit glanced over him. "You are my master?" she asked.

Standing there stupidly, it took the young wizard a moment to collect his thoughts before he nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes I am your new master," he said quickly. He felt uncomfortable when the spirit stared at him expectantly, yet he had no idea what else he was supposed to do.

"You…have nothing for me?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

It was actually quite adorable, but he forced that thought away. Now was not the time to admire the beauty of the spirit! One would think that he had just seen a pretty lady walk into the café the way he was acting, not meeting an all-powerful spirit! It was truly a despicable beginning for the young wizard trying to convince himself and others that he was matured and powerful.

Trying to refocus, the Englishman tried to remember her words. Have something for her? What did she mean by that? "Oh!" he nodded again, believing he understood her clearly. "Yes, I have my command for you."

The spirit narrowed her blazing blue eyes for a moment, just staring, before nodding slowly herself, mimicking his motion tentatively. "Very well," she said. "What are your commands?"

"My commands are…are…" Arthur trailed off. Honestly, he had absolutely no idea what he should ask of the spirit. He hadn't really thought on it much. He had only just made the decision to actually try and summon a spirit after dinner, and if he were honest with himself, he had never actually expected it to work, on his first try no less! What should he ask one of the most powerful spirits in The Otherworld to do? _Could _he even command her? To bind her to his will? Was that even _possible_ with such a spirit as this?

So much good could come from the Spirit of Light, Arthur suddenly realized. Not just for him—…though mostly for him—but for the world! What should he ask of this spirit? He could not abuse her powers, could not be completely selfish—though even he knew that he would be, just a little. A spirit as powerful as the Spirit of Light could potentially do so much damage to the World. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine as he remembered the stories of his grandfather's disgrace. He could _not _allow something like that to happen. Not ever again. But how could he use this nearly limitless power he'd been given?

"I command you to be helpful," the Englishman decided at last, hoping his voice sounded authoritative to the powerful being who stared at him thoughtfully. "I command you to be helpful and…and…to answer any questions posed to you." His senior thesis was still at the back of his mind. He wasn't going to let the opportunity of such a great potential of knowledge pass him by.

"Helpful and answer questions," the spirit repeated back, smiling. "Is that all?"

"Ah, no, there are others!" his mind buzzed with more possibilities. "You must call me 'Master' when we are alone, though you cannot tell anyone that I am the one who summoned you. Or that you're even a spirit at all. If they figure it out…well, just don't tell them I am your master."

A sly look over came the girl's face, and for the first time since her being completely naked next to him, the spirit bowed her head before smiling charmingly, in a manner Arthur didn't completely trust. "And who, may I ask, is my master?"

An old story, a myth more like, sprang up in the youngest Kirkland's mind at the prodding for his identity, a story of a foolish wizard who had given his name to a spirit. The spirit had served the man faithfully for just a bit before it had betrayed its master and sent him back into the Otherworld. The spirit, it was said, was able to live its life on Earth after, some said as an elf, who continued to trick the human race now that it was free from the enslavement of its world.

Maybe scholars did not believe the old tale, said it was nothing but a story to frighten children away from trying to summon the spirits, but Arthur wasn't too sure about that. At least not anymore. Why would the spirit ask his name in such a way? She looked too eager to learn this information for the wizard's tastes. Could she gain some sort of power over _him _if she knew?

"My name is not important," Arthur sniffed sticking up his nose. "And as my last, finally command, I order you to never speak my name out loud."

The blue eyes narrowed angrily, and for just a moment, the young man worried that the being before him might very well strike him down, but instead, the girl's pretty face scrunched up in bitterness as she turned those blazing eyes of hers down towards the floor. "Yes, _Master_," she hissed. "If that is what you would like."

Sighing in relief, the blonde man nodded before looking about his room again. It was pretty much how it had been the night before, with the exception of papers lying about and books that got knocked off the shelves. It was almost like nothing supernatural had happened at all. Hopefully to the others outside this room, that was the case as well.

But he could not think of that at the moment. The first priority here was to get clothes for the female spirit. Walking to his closet, the wizard pulled out an old pair of slacks that were too small for him as well as a simple button down shirt and some underwear. Blushing, he held all of it out to the Spirit of Light, looking anywhere but her. "Here. Put these on."

The spirit looked from the clothes to Arthur and back, not making a move to take them. Instead, she adorned a haughty expression as she sniffed snootily at him. "Would that be _helpful_, Master?"

Arthur stood stunned for a moment before dread slowly started to come over him. She was being difficult. His spirit was being difficult. The spirits weren't supposed to be difficult once you laid down the laws for them, were they? Sure, there were stories of masters being tricked, but he had always assumed that was because the other humans had been too stupid and not powerful enough to control their spirits or think to ban the whole name thing. But here he was, still a wizard-in-training powerful enough to summon one of the oldest, most powerful spirits in the Otherworld, went through all the safeguards of making sure he stayed safe, and his spirit was _still _being difficult!

No, she wasn't just being difficult, Arthur realized, she was being resentful. She _resented _him for not telling her his name and for banning her from ever speaking it out loud. The old story went that if the spirit said its master's name three times, it could send the human into the abyss of the Otherworld. No one knew what became of the humans that went into the other side. All that was known was that there was a lot of screaming when they went in and they never came back out.

For the first time since the spirit had been torn from the Otherworld, Arthur began to think that perhaps this hadn't been the best of ideas to call the spirit out. He hadn't really been sure what he expected the spirits to be like when he'd decided to summon one, but he was sure it wasn't like this one. She was so…alive, so…real. Too real. A part of him hadn't really expected a spirit to be so very humanlike. Humans were so flawed, so imperfect. Since he was a child, Arthur had seen the spirits as something so above humanity, something almost perfect. Perhaps he had been confusing them with angels, the creatures that resided in Heaven and so very different than the spirits, but still. Because of this apparent misconception, it left him feeling not only just the slightest bit disappointed, but afraid. The angels of Heaven were protectors and guardians, the spirits had their own sets of rules and codes. Spirits didn't have to necessarily play nice.

But all this aside, the young wizard-to-be was still wondering how he was ever going to control this apparently difficult and willful spirit. There was no doubt she'd do as commanded in the end, spirits were bound to their masters as such, but as he was rapidly learning, that didn't necessarily mean that the spirits would carry out commands willingly or easily for their master. For the first time in his life, Arthur began to wonder if his grandfather's disgrace had come not just because of the unlucky coincidence of his spirit running in to its opposite. Perhaps Charles Kirkland, the most powerful wizard of his time in Europe, really couldn't _handle _his spirit. Perhaps Charles hadn't been as powerful as Arthur had always thought…

Regaining his composure, the young man straightened his features out of their shock and into, what he hoped, was an authoritative scowl. Straightening up to his full height, which he just realized was the same as the girl's sadly enough, squaring his shoulders, he nodded once, hoping he appeared severe. "Yes, actually," he growled. "It would be most _helpful_ if you would. Just as it would be _helpful _for you not to give me so much attitude."

Instead of looking impressed, the spirit continued to glare at him with narrowed eyes before she complied with his request. She shot out and grabbed the clothes with one hand, causing Arthur to jump in surprise, before she let the blanket fall. The young man instantly turned away, red in the face, wondering how the girl could be so immodest. When he finally had enough courage to look back at his spirit, he saw he just finish pulling on the shirt…though she left it unbuttoned…like her pants were.

"Done!" the spirit declared, giggling as she ran her fingers over the material in a strange sort of fascination.

"You most certainly are not," Arthur scoffed. "Button it all up!"

The spirit cocked her head to the side, as if confused, and for a moment, Arthur thought she was being difficult again. He glared at her for a moment, only to realize that she _was _confused. She didn't seem to know what to do. She was the immortal Spirit of Light from the Otherworld now condensed down into the body of a human girl. Why on _earth _would such a powerful, otherworldly creature wear clothes at all, let alone ones with buttons?

So, with a scarlet face, the blonde young man walked over to the spirit cautiously, and she watched him interestedly. Reluctantly, he reached out and helped her button her clothes. Bright blue eyes seemed to burn into him as he worked, and he tried his best to ignore her.

When he was almost done, the spirit was practically jumping up and down. "Let me try! Let me try!" she exclaimed excitedly as she slapped his hands away.

He watched in amazement as the mighty Spirit of Light, reduced to a young, childish looking woman with big blue eyes and rounded face, attempted to button up her shirt, fingers fumbling over themselves as though they didn't know what to do or how to function. She was in such a state of concentration, her tongue was even poking out at the side, like that would somehow help her in her pursuit to make her fingers work better.

"This is hard!" she whined. The Spirit of Light actually _whined_. "This is harder than walking!" she complained.

She hadn't been able to walk? Arthur frowned in contemplation. She seemed to have master walking and grabbing things just fine as far as he could tell. Had she struggled with it all when she'd first come through? But that begged the question, if she had to learn to master such simple human movement, she must have had to have time to do it in, so how long had he been unconscious?

Peeking over at the clock, he realized it was almost six in the morning. What time had he attempted to summon her? It hadn't been midnight, of that he was sure, at least when he started. How long had the entire summoning process actually taken anyway? It had only seemed to be a few minutes, but was that the reality? It could have taken longer and he just hadn't been aware.

A cry of utter delight resounded in the room, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts. He looked up to find that the spirit had managed to button the shirt up…though a few were in the wrong holes. He thought about redoing them for her, but it was oddly cute somehow, like she was just a child. Indeed she certainly looked to be at least a year or so younger than himself, and since nothing inappropriate was being shown because of her mistakes, he thought better to let her be. She was proud of what she'd done, after all. Who was he to ruin this small success for her in the Human Realm?

Those bright eyes and big smile caused the young man to smile back as well. Strange, he rarely smiled, but he just couldn't help but do it when she looked at him. Perhaps she was more than just the spirit of physical light. Maybe she was the spirit of internal light as well?

He was about to ask, perhaps make good on the questioning rules he'd already established, when the door to the room suddenly burst open. "RISE AN' SHINE, ARTIE!" Seumas burst in drunkenly, only to freeze.

Arthur had jumped when his brother had barged in…but that was an understatement. If he were honest, he had almost jumped out of his skin he'd been so startled. But now he stared at his eldest brother with wide, terrified green eyes just as Seumas stared in tired confusion between Arthur and the spirit, who hadn't reacted much to the sudden presence of another person in the room, except with a widening smile. "Your name is Artie?" she asked eagerly.

"Seumas!" the youngest Kirkland cried, not really hearing the spirit. "Wh-what the bloody hell are you doing barging in here this time of morning?!"

The Scotsman obviously hadn't gone to bed yet, and he smelled of scotch and beer. Because of this, he must have been slow in the head, believing that he was hallucinating, because he looked between the spirit and his brother again, opened his mouth to say something, only to close it and squint at his brother and the spirit extra hard, as though he could make them into something other than what he was really seeing, before his shoulders slumped. "_Crivens_," Seumas muttered, running his hand over his scruffled face. "T'bed wit' ya, Seumas," he scolded himself as he stumbled away.

When the Scotsman had left, Arthur could have cried in joy, but instead, just sagged in relief, all the fright leaving him. Although he had _never_ thought he would _ever _think this _ever_, he now thanked God for having a drunken bum for a brother.

"Who was that? Why did he look similar to you? Why did his hair look like that? Can you have hair on your face too? Is your name really Artie?"

Arthur turned and stared at the inquisitive spirit somewhat at a loss as to what he should say. "What does it matter what they call me?" he asked rudely, his nerves still high as was his paranoia. "If it was, you wouldn't be allowed to call me that or any variations of it anyway," he reminded harshly. The Spirit's enthusiasm seemed to dim just a bit. "But that puts me in mind. I'd forgotten about my family. I'm going to have to make up a story and an identity for you while you're here in this world."

The spirit perked up at this. "You're going to give me a name?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded. "It appears I have no choice. I still live with my family and they can't know you're a spirit."

"What's my name?! What's my name?!" the girl cried, literally jumping up and down this time, her smile the broadest he had ever seen it.

Frowning, the Englishman thought for a long, hard moment. What should he call a spirit? He was going to have to hide her, make up a story as to why there was a girl in their house. His mother would certainly be curious as to that fact! But could he do this? Could he pull this off? The spirit did have a certain …strange glow about her, not literal anymore, but a certain exuberance that his mother would pick up on. And then there was the fact that her accent was ever so slightly off from his, and she spoke louder than he did as well.

"Amelia," he said slowly, getting a taste for it on his tongue. The spirit went still. "You'll be called Amelia Jones, a classmate of mine at University from the United States."

The Spirit of Light, Amelia, beamed.

**oOoOoOo**

In Siberia, Zima glowered at the spirit he had summoned in frustration. It was proving to be harder to control the creature than he'd originally thought. All throughout the wee hours of the morning Zima had been going over the rules with his spirit, making sure it knew what it could and could not do, but still it resisted him. He didn't understand why! Although he knew of the spirits' trickiness, he had thought that by all of his rules, he'd be able to make the spirit completely obey him without any resistance. That wasn't proving to be the case. This spirit seemed to have a little too much _spirit._

"So, let me get this straight," the giant began again, smiling detachedly, reclining causally on the sofa like some sort of god at the feasting table. "All you want me to do is go about and…_collect_ certain objects for you, _da_?"

Zima scowled at how casually his slavewas addressing him, but couldn't help but also be fascinated by it as well. This creature terrified him if he could be honest with himself, yet at the same time, it was bound to obey him. It seemed so real, so humanlike, it even resisted him, the most basic of human reactions he'd seen in his days from running the GULags. It smiled like a person, it frowned like a person, it had even picked up a speech tick just by listening to _him_ when he'd been nervous and kept asking yes or no questions. It was truly an amazing creature, but since Zima feared it, he hated it as well as valued it.

"Essentially. That will be your main task for the time being," the old general nodded. "But as I said before, I expect you to preform anything I tell you without hesitation."

A tight smile came over the spirit's face, one that nearly sent Zima skittering away in terror, but he sat still, refusing to be intimidated by it. "Of course, Master," it said in a light, pleasant sort of way, but Zima could hear the steel beneath it. "But Master, I am confused by something. May I ask a question?"

The old wizard was furious with how flippant this creature was being with him, yet at the same time, he didn't dare to make it too angry. After all, it could probably kill him if it wanted. Zima had commanded it not to kill him, yet there were probably still loopholes he had not thought of, though he'd tried his best to think of every scenario. But spirits were tricky things. It was best not to make it too angry too often. "Speak."

"I had often heard other spirits speak of the concept of hot and cold when they come to the Human Realm," he began, though Zima didn't see the point of this narrative. "And you told me when I first arrived that this place…Russia? It is very cold here, _da_?" The general nodded. "Ah," the spirit smiled happily. "It _is _cold then! I am feeling cold."

For the first time since the spirit had arrived, Zima suddenly realized that the creature was naked, naked other than the enchanted scarf. It had sat all throughout the early hours of the morning like this, and it had probably been contemplating all of the new sensations it felt, and just now confirmed a suspicion that it was cold. It was strange. Zima couldn't remember a time when he hadn't known what common sensations felt like. Had there ever been a time?

But that was all beside the point, interesting as this line of thought was. The issue was that this creature was cold and naked. The first thing he'd have to do was heat up the room as it had gotten quiet chilly since the spirit's arrival when all light had gone out. Second, he'd have to find out how to clothe the giant. That would not be an easy task as it couldn't simply wear some of his.

Standing up, he walked over to the fireplace and lit it, throwing some logs on the fire. Next, he stalked over to the coach and grabbed one of the old throw blankets someone had given him years ago, mistakenly believing that he wanted such a gift. He studied the old thing for a moment before throwing it at the spirit. "Wrap that around yourself," he commanded.

The spirit looked at the worn cloth for a moment, rubbing it between its fingers, before complying and putting it around itself. It sat for a moment, looking contemplative, before it smiled again, truly looking joyful. "I am feeling different. Is this warmth?"

The old general snorted. "How the hell should I know? Probably," he added when some dark emotion flashed in its eyes. He didn't like that look. It made _him _feel cold. Very, very cold.

"Oh good!" it smiled brightly, yet strangely muted. It almost didn't seem real, yet it was _too _real for Zima's comfort. He didn't like the idea of this things being truly alive. It was just a tool. That was all. There was nothing else about this creature; it was just another beast of burden. "I believe I like being warm," it announced pleasantly.

"Most people do," Zima muttered, not sure how he felt about the creature. It made him nervous. Perhaps he should just have it go on its first mission. But then, he needed to clothe it first before he set it loose in society. Plus, he didn't want it to get sick…if indeed it could. It was too valuable to him to risk its health, if indeed its health really mattered. He realized he was going to have to do more research on this creature if he could.

"I'll be right back," he announced to the spirit. "_Don't_ move."

The spirit merely smiled back at him cheerfully, innocently, which made Zima all the more uncomfortable. He went to his bedroom to try and find something that the creature could perhaps wear. He didn't really find anything that would fit its height or girth. Even though he despised the idea, he was going to have to go out and buy it clothes. He hated the idea of spending money on anyone else, but then, soon, he would be a rich man. Perhaps this once he could make an allowance and spend some to get his return. This was an investment, and one that he would be a fool to pass up. Smirking, he grabbed his wallet and keys.

When he went back into the sitting area, the spirit was exactly where he'd left it, though its head was leaned back, almost like it was asleep. Was it?

"I'm leaving," Zima announced, the spirit did not move. "Don't move from that spot. I'll return shortly."

The spirit rolled its head over to stare at its master. Zima was unnerved by the dark eyes that stared at him, but he glared back anyway. "Very well," it answered, but nothing else.

Although he didn't like its attitude, he didn't really want to upset it while he was leaving the house. Best to let it settle in before the hard work began. "All right. Stay here," he commanded again before he left.

Yes, things would be looking up for Zima soon. He just had to be patient a little while longer.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm alive! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth with this story. Between school and wedding planning, my life's been more than a little hectic. ^^" Sorry about that. I'll try and be more frequent.

**Slang: **I like to use different countries slang if I can, or little words in their language. So you get one Scottish term today! : _Crivens- _Christ defend us…it was apparently shortened into "crivens" somehow… I thought it was fun. ^^

'**Nother Note: **Well, hope you all enjoyed your first tastes of Ivan and Amelia. They'll be more fun later on. ;) Please leave me a review on the way out! I'd love to hear from ya! Cheers!


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